


Treasure of the Moon

by DarkFairytale



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 03:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkFairytale/pseuds/DarkFairytale
Summary: Shadow turned and stared openly at Mad Sweeney, sitting next to him on the bus. The leprechaun’s long legs were folded uncomfortably in the minimal leg space between the seats, and with Mad Sweeney and Shadow’s broad frames combined they were bunched pretty tightly together on their two narrow seats.Shadow was still staring as Mad Sweeney leaned over to eye the ID still tucked in one of Shadow’s large palms. “Mikey Ainsel, eh? Bit plain for you isn’t it, Moon Shadow?”Shadow hushed him viciously, glancing around, hoping that no-one was paying attention. Most of the other passengers were asleep.“Oh they can’t hear me you dumb fuck,” Mad Sweeney said. “I’m not actually here.”





	Treasure of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> I recently watched all of American Gods for the first time (I read the book a while back but have only recently gotten access to Prime Video). I love it. And Mad Sweeney is a huge part of why. I cannot fathom a Season 3 with no Mad Sweeney, so having finished Season 2, this is the first thing that randomly came to my mind.
> 
> I basically need more Shadow Moon and Mad Sweeney scenes. And I actually want them to be friends for once. 
> 
> Spoilers for Season 2, obviously. This story picks up straight after the events of 2x08.

Shadow made his way back up the steps onto the bus with heavy feet, following the single file line of those taken out for identification on the roadside, as they filtered down the centre aisle and back to their seats. It reminded him of climbing onto a prison bus, and shit, that memory could have so easily just become a future reality. Shadow sat back down in his seat with a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face, rubbing at his tired eyes as the bus started up again and carried on its way.

He had expected one look at his face, and one look at his ID to be it, for him to be carted into the back of a cop car and back to prison for life. But the cop’s eyes hadn’t contained a single spark of recognition as had inspected Shadow’s face and Shadow’s photo identification. Shadow's ID had inexplicably, miraculously held the name ‘Michael Ainsel’, the personal details not at all familiar to him. His face had been up on screens all over the country, but that cop, looking specifically for him, had not recognised him. Shadow was not a fool despite everything the gods said of him; this was clearly some kind of godly intervention, because they needed him, still, for whatever twisted reason.

The knowledge that the gods were behind this lucky escape made him more worn than relieved, too tired to be confused. He had long since learned to deal with confusion; less so the revelations. There were plenty of those that he hadn’t the energy to even contemplate at the moment. There were too many fucking things he didn’t want to contemplate. Something in his chest gripped again at the thought of Mad Sweeney. Shadow Moon had been a career criminal, he had stolen, he had gone to prison for a fucked casino heist and aggravated assault. He had served three years. But Shadow had never killed another person.

That was not true anymore. Shadow had killed Mad Sweeney.

It had been an accident, but Sweeney’s blood was still on his hands and god, he wanted to take it back. He wanted to go back and change those few seconds so fucking badly.

“I’m so sorry,” Shadow had gasped in shock, horrified, at the sight of Mad Sweeney’s body sliding further onto that cursed spear.

“You owe me a coin, Moon Shadow,” Sweeney had wheezed.

Mad Sweeney had seen death coming for him for all of that day; his mad ranting of regrets and memories and Banshees and how everyone had truly fucked him over, and his multiple attempts to let Shadow know that Wednesday was not to be trusted.

Shadow could still see Sweeney’s beaten face, the stark red blood, the blood on his teeth, redder than his hair, that spear impaling him.

Shadow could still see the mad grin as Sweeney had sent Wednesday’s Gungnir spear to the hoard.

“I used to be a king,” the giant alcoholic leprechaun had said, dazed and quiet. His last words.

_ “I used to be a king.”_ The drunkard that Shadow had found under the bridge that morning, a king.

Fuck. Shadow had killed him. Shadow did not even like fighting, always needing to be provoked to even get a bit of temper sparked into the need to defend himself. Mad Sweeney had liked to provoke. From that very first meeting when he had provoked Shadow into fighting him and then accidentally gifted Shadow his lucky coin, to the day that he died, provoking Shadow by telling Shadow that he had caused the crash that had killed Laura, under Wednesday’s orders, and that Sweeney and Laura had fucked in New Orleans. Laura had confirmed the former but not the latter. Had that been true? Or had Sweeney been trying to rile Shadow up on purpose?

It had become increasingly clear to Shadow, after the most recent revelations that had become clear to him, that Mad Sweeney had been one of the very few gods to ever tell Shadow any truths at all.

_“You owe me a coin, Moon Shadow.”_

Shadow dug into his pocket, where he still had some of the loose coins from Sweeney’s hoard. He had picked them up from where they had been haphazardly scattered on the floor of Ibis and Jacquel’s. The coins would be gone in the morning, taking the last of Mad Sweeney with them.

But, Shadow wondered hopefully, maybe Mad Sweeney _could_ come back? There were enough people that celebrated St Paddy’s day and leprechauns. Mad Sweeney had not committed suicide, so it meant that his death by Gungnir had not been a final death for him. Maybe, maybe Mad Sweeney could come back to life, and maybe then Shadow might not feel so fucking guilty. Shadow would always feel guilty for what happened, but if Mad Sweeney were to…

“Well hang on one fucking minute,” Mad Sweeney said, and Shadow startled so badly that he nearly cracked his head on the bus window.

Shadow turned and stared openly at Mad Sweeney, sitting next to him on the bus. The leprechaun’s long legs were folded uncomfortably in the minimal leg space between the seats, and with Mad Sweeney and Shadow’s large frames combined they were bunched pretty tightly together on their two narrow seats.

Shadow was still staring as Mad Sweeney leaned over to eye the ID still tucked in one of Shadow’s large palms. “Mikey Ainsel, eh? Bit plain for you isn’t it, Moon Shadow?”

Shadow hushed him viciously, glancing around, hoping that no-one was paying attention. Most of the other passengers were asleep.

“Oh they can’t hear me you dumb fuck,” Mad Sweeney said. “I’m not actually here.”

“Then what the fuck?” Shadow whispered under his breath.

“Well, I don’t think I’m actually here,” Mad Sweeney jabbed at the seat in front of him and his hand went straight through it. “Some incorporeal, vision bullshit I’d wager. Not sure what those fucks back in Cairo are up to with my body, but something’s fucking working.”

“Then why aren’t you appearing to them?” Shadow asked, keeping his voice on a whisper that maybe shouldn’t be as harsh as it was, considering he had been the one to kill Sweeney in the first place. “Why come to me?”

“Fuck should I know? I’m not the one on the controls here. Maybe it’s because you were the one that killed me with a fucking spear?” Mad Sweeney accused before adding “You cunt,” with gusto.

Shadow had never liked that word, and Laura had always despised it, but, having felt so guilty that he would never hear the leprechaun say that word again, Shadow actually found himself finding it comforting to hear.

“Where we going?” Mad Sweeney asked, squinting down the bus.

“Somewhere they can’t find me,” Shadow replied.

“Who’s ‘they’?” Sweeney asked. “Dead wife? Grimnir? The cops? Who?”

Shadow shrugged, swallowed. “Everybody.”

“Yeah, well, everybody but me, it seems,” Mad Sweeney was eyeing him suspiciously. “Why the fuck am I here, Moon Shadow?”

“How should I…” Shadow was about to say, but then something dawned on him, and he slowly uncurled the fingers of the hand that was not holding his ID, to reveal the small collection of coins he still had in his palm.

“So let me get this straight,” Mad Sweeney said, “You steal a man’s lucky coin, give it to your dead cunt of a wife, kill me, and then take pieces from my fucking hoard? You’ve got some fucking nerve, Shadow Moon.” He did not sound amused.

“I didn’t steal the lucky coin,” Shadow retaliated, but it did not sound half as effective on a murmur, with an added glance around the bus to make sure nobody had noticed that Shadow was talking - seemingly - to himself. “You were the one that gave it to me. I didn’t know what it was when I gave it to Laura. I didn’t mean to kill you, and I took these…” he trailed off, looking down at the hoard coins. “I took them as a reminder for what I did to you. And that you were right, right about all of them. And that I was wrong.”

“Didn’t mean to kill me? Is that supposed to be some comfort?” Mad Sweeney snorted. “And of course I was right. You and Dead Wife never seemed to realise that ‘til it was too fucking late.”

“I am really sorry,” Shadow said. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Mean to kill me? Well fuck, Shadow, do you want my forgiveness, because I really don’t…what the fuck is that?”

Mad Sweeney had become distracted, and lifted one of his large fingers to prod some of the coins aside, and Shadow blinked in surprise when Sweeney’s hoard coins actually did move. Once moved, they revealed the liberty coin that Zorya Polunochnaya had gifted to Shadow, that must have gotten mixed up with the rest in Shadow’s pocket.

“Well, that’s probably fucking why,” Sweeney declared. “Fucking typical. You steal my lucky coin from my hoard, and then you bring me back by mixing the treasure of the sun with a treasure of the moon.” He snorted incredulously, and then shaking his head, continued grumbling, clearly speaking to himself. “I was a God of the Sun, once, I remember that now, and then I’m both killed and brought back by a Shadow of the goddamn Moon. Fucking typical.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t mean to kill me or you didn’t mean to bring me back?” Sweeney was glaring at him with those fathomless brown eyes of his, “Or do you just like fucking with a leprechaun’s life, is that it, Shadow Moon? You and your Dead Wife have that in fucking common.”

“Yeah, about you fucking my wife…” Shadow growled.

Sweeney threw up his hands, “Not physically, you dumb cunt. Voodoo in New Orleans; I fucked Brigette and Dead Wife fucked The Baron, and the magic just kind of…” Mad Sweeney managed to make mashing his fingers together look really fucking crude. “So she didn’t fuck me, technically. She did fuck another guy though. So take that as some kind of fucking comfort if you will. You better had if this turns out to be permanent.”

“If what turns out to be permanent?”

“Me. Here. Stuck with you.”

Shadow’s eyes widened. “You mean you can’t leave?”

Mad Sweeney shrugged, looking pissed off again, “How the fuck should I know? You were the one that summoned me. Believe it or not, I haven’t been dead before. This pleasurable new experience is all down to you.” Sweeney sent Shadow a shit-eating grin. “So enjoy my company while it lasts, Moon Shadow.” 

Mad Sweeney made himself more comfortable in his seat, shuffling lower in it and folding his long body up further so that his head could rest against the seat back, his big shoulder and arm bashing into Shadow each time he moved.

“Where’d you say we were heading again?” Mad Sweeney asked, closing his eyes and settling in for the journey, as though his sudden incorporeal resurrection wasn’t fazing him in the slightest. These Gods weren’t fazed by anything.

“I don’t know,” Shadow said, “Somewhere they can’t find me.”

“End of the fucking world, then, because all the Gods old and new seem to have their sights set on you,” Mad Sweeney grumbled, cracking one eye back open to watch him. “I fucking warned you, Shadow.”

Shadow refrained from rolling his eyes at Sweeney’s tone. Because Mad Sweeney had been right. He had warned Shadow so many times, and yet had been the one that ended up dead. “And now you’re back to warn me again.”

“Yeah, well, this shit isn’t for free. I suppose you've paid the debt of an owed coin; bringing me back with that one in your hand. But you still owe me.”

“Owe you how?”

“Money? Booze? Getting me my goddamn body back?” Sweeney shrugged. “Guess we will figure out your debt when we get to wherever we’re going. I’m in no rush.” He closed his eye again and grinned lazily. “Who’s the bitch now, Moon Shadow?”

**Author's Note:**

> If Mad Sweeney doesn't make a glorious and triumphant return in Season 3 I may well write more of this, so that Mad Sweeney can be Shadow's annoying guide of conscience in Lakeside. And I may make it slash, because Madmoon was a ship I had so not intended to board, but was immediately a happy crew member of.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! Please let me know what you think! Comments, kudos and bookmarks are so very loved and appreciated; they are to an ao3 writer, what a lucky coin is to sexy 6'5 redheaded leprechaun.


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